I’m not going to say I have never peed in bed. It doesn’t take but a dream about waterfalls to swoon my eager bladder. I will admit it has been a long, long while since I have “wet the bed.” Last night, however, I faced the critical dilemma: to pee or not to pee? Something had to give after getting my fill of ginger ale, cold water, and prescribed diuretics. So, I let my nurse know, and she handed me a bright yellow bed pan to sit on. Granted, it was 3 am and no one wanted to deal with unhooking all my vitals. But really? Did I really have to consciously sit there, a grown woman, and pee in my bed. Water and other fluids were about to become my enemy if bed pans were to become my fate. I really had to go but the urine wouldn’t flow. My pee was taking a stand against my will and would NOT pee in that bed pan. I may be a sick person, but I am a person nonetheless.

Ultimately, I told my nurse I couldn’t bring myself to do it. We settled on a bedside commode. She tried to hold all the wires coming off of me while I sat my bare bottom on that bedside commode. Yet again my pee was taking a stand against my will. Some people are “pee shy.” I think I am “pee stubborn.” I wasn’t not peeing because I was embarassed but because I was craving a little humanity and a little privacy.  My nurse told me if I didn’t go, she would have to use a catheter in the morning. Uh oh. My pee was still stubborn.

I subtly suggested to my nurse that I was a big girl and could accomplish this feat on my own. The second she stepped out, my bladder was free as if it had just succumb to a dream about waterfalls! A bedside commode was still not the best of options, but it was a compromise.

I am sure no one cares about my bladder issues, but that was my greatest accomplishment of the day: not peeing in my bed. So, congratulate me please!

XX